The Next Team is Leaving Soon! (Pray with Us)

The rainy season is fast approaching, which will limit the ability to deliver food to the Sudanese people.
The next team is going out soon. Leaving Sunday afternoon. Returning in approximately 2 weeks.

A Long Journey by Operation Broken Silence



Nice To Meet You by Operation Broken Silence

Special Delivery by Operation Broken Silence



We're Here To Help by Operation Broken Silence




Close Examination by Operation Broken Silence

People have given.

The team is going.

We are telling.

You can pray. 

 Contact Jessica to be a part of our 24 hour around the clock prayer team. Email her at: jessjohnson624@sbcglobal.net to sign up! 

And from the bottom of our hearts we thank you for all of your continued support. 

Stories from the Ground: A Father's Love

Written By: John Jefferson

The heat of the day no doubt surpassed 100* as we moved through the swampy, steamy back country.  At one point we stopped and rung out our “dry fit” shirts yielding enough “Gatorade” for a nice warm drink!  In the midst of this scene came a sight that was a bit unusual, and caused us to stop and encounter the phenomenon head on. 

A uniformed soldier was marching through the reeds with a young child on his shoulders.  

Troop movement was not at all uncommon, nor the sight of someone carrying a small child too young to walk, but this pairing was unique.  The soldier told us his boy was ill, and he needed to get him to a clinic.  The saddest part of the whole episode was that this was not the first child of his that had fallen ill in this manner.  

This man had lost two other boys in their youth, a devastating thing for anyone, but especially someone from a patrilineal society.  This is what drove him to take the two-day walk with the boy on his shoulders. 

I was deeply moved by the idea of a father’s love displayed by this soldier.  It was apparent the boy had swollen glands and was running a fever, which could have meant malaria or some kind of infection.  I gave him some vitamin solution to mix with water in hopes that would boost his immune system a bit.  We also prayed for the two knowing that was the most we could do, to beseech the God of the Universe to be merciful to this man and his child in this time of great need.  

As we went on, it became more and more obvious that the problems that we would encounter along the road would be greater than our ability to solve them alone.  Correspondingly, our problems, discomfort, pain, and minor inconveniences started to pale.

Stories from the Ground: We Make Our Plans

Written By: John Jefferson

“We make our plans, but the Lord orders our steps”. Prov. 16:9

Did you ever try to plan out what you were going to do when you got to the amusement park as a kid excitedly the night before family vacation?  How you were going to go on this ride first, then that one, go and grab this kind of snack, then run off to such and such a place while you eat it, etc.  Of course the calculations didn’t include hitting the ceiling on your parent’s budget prematurely, ride closures, extra-long lines, little brother having to go to the bathroom, getting lost, or a myriad of other things that caused disruption.  In the end, the bigger plan of you getting to the park and having a good time, the one your parent’s probably had all along, was the only one that got fulfilled, and them keeping you away from consuming all the junk food you could and going on rides that would cause you to prematurely divest of that food or keep you up all night in terror was the only thing that ensured you would indeed enjoy it.

“Planning” this trip was a little like that.  We had to first dream about getting food to an isolated part of the world under conditions that were less than optimal in terms of security (i.e. entering a war zone).  

This was complicated by fact that seasonal rains were set to begin soon, and funds needed to be raised to even talk about taking action to help those at risk of starvation.  Despite these obstacles, a practical, implementable and executable plan had to be developed quickly in order to raise funds, then begin to take the steps necessary to fulfill the mission.  On our first conference call we established that we needed a clear plan and purpose to our mission, including a target population to serve.  There was some vacillation due to the constantly changing conditions on the ground and information about what was and wasn’t possible.  Through all the iterations involving different modes of transportation and scenarios, it was determined we would do whatever it took to get as much food as possible to the people in need, by whatever means available.

The stages of the plan became clear: 

• Procure transportation to the destination, or at least the promise of it.  
• Identify food types (we settled on nutritive supplements and foodstuffs), quantity, and sources. 
• Raise necessary funds to buy and transport food.  
• Assemble a team to take the food to the destination, and one with local contacts that could help distribute it to those in the greatest need.  
• Finally, set the date for the mission, purchase the food and transportation, and prepare for takeoff.  

Along the way a million discouragements and changes of plan took place before even setting out, and the timing of the team departure and corresponding delivery of the food to our jumping off point was in jeopardy upon leaving the States.  Nevertheless, we had a plan, and even a backup plan, and knew that our steps were being ordered in spite of those plans.  

This became more and more evident as we proceeded. (Interesting things like we left in the midst of the rainy season and heavy rains that had fallen even two weeks before our departure dried up almost completely the week before we got there…we certainly encountered mud, but mostly walked on dry ground and never saw significant rainfall)

When we finally arrived at our destination in the Nuba Mountains, we had procured ½ a ton of grain despite our original shipment not making it in time, traveled tens of miles through rough terrain with various modes of transportation despite having trucks get bogged down, vehicles run out of gas, and being unable to acquire a single mode that could take passengers and cargo uninterrupted from start to finish, and arrived safely in a place that was purportedly inaccessible despite the threat of aerial bombardment, government militias, and hostile environmental forces.  

Having done so, we divided the food we had, and closely followed the direction of local leaders, who brought us to families in need.  Families holed up in dens and caves in the earth.  Families eating unripened grain, harvested early to keep from starving.  Families with members too weak to flee the threat of war, but too afraid to stay where they were.  Desperate families with children whose hair has turned red from malnutrition, and whose clothes and patience were wearing thin waiting on the world community to do something.  Our plan was to get to these people to give them food, give them hope, and let them know their waiting wasn’t in vain.  

As I sat at the foot of the mountains that first evening we arrived and marveled at how we arrived in that forsaken place, contrasted with its utter beauty and deceiving serenity, I realized that it wasn’t any plan of our making alone that got us to that point.  It had too many holes and inconsistencies to accomplish so great a task and include so many helpful people we had no idea existed.  Indeed, it was as if every step we took was ordered so that we would not falter.

“For we are His workmanship, created in Christ Jesus for good works, which God prepared beforehand so that we would walk in them”.  Eph. 2:10

Preparing to Go

Written By: Jonathan Pham

“Bro, so a spot just opened up. Do you want to go?”

“What about the air fare?”

“Air fare and costs are taken care of.”

“Mind giving me some time? Give me till Monday”

“Alright”

That’s pretty much the convo in a nutshell between Dave and I concerning a return trip to Sudan. I had a fair gist of what was going on—our church was planning on sending a couple of guys who would initiate a humanitarian and spiritual outreach to the people of the Nuban Mountains. 

What I knew about the situation had been gathered from newspapers, blogs, and online videos summarizing what was going on for the past 2-3 years of genocide. What was captured in those images left me slightly disturbed—how and what would drive people to do such atrocious acts? I was glad that I was part of a body of believers who were compassionate and desired to act in response of evil. I was proud to pray and lift up those who were already supporting and financially support the cause.

However, the desire to actually go in person and to be the hands and feet of the church hadn’t manifested. Going back to Sudan hadn’t crossed my mind at all—hadn’t crossed my mind until the opportunity had been given. When I was told of the opportunity, I was both excited but reluctant. 

Is this what God really wants me to do? 

Am I being impulsive? 

What about things left back home? 

Am I well conditioned to perform the task ahead? 

The trip would take off in two weeks. This was happening so fast. Not wanting to make a rash decision, I asked for time to earnestly seek the Lord through prayer to ask Him for guidance. In my times of prayer, I started to realize that many of the things I believed disqualified me were really my own insecurities and relying on myself rather than upon Christ.  

One excuse was that I wasn’t physically fit enough to endure the strenuous demands of the trip—it is God who I should be relying for strength, do I believe He will provide it?  Another related fear was the fear of failure, and not being able to accomplish what we set out to do—God will accomplish what He ordained. 

Through prayer, God taught me that there really wasn’t any reason why I couldn’t go and that He has provided an awesome opportunity to serve Him—an opportunity that was not given to many Christians in America. My heart became excited at the thought of being used by God and the opportunity to see God actively move in a way that could be attributed to Him in this journey ahead.

In anxiety concerning danger, the Spirit spoke to me through Psalm 27 and Romans 8. 

Concerning my inadequacies in physically preparing for the trip, He spoke through Isaiah 40 and 1 Kings 18: 44-46. 

My mind was set. I was resolved to go, for the sake of Christ and His Bride.

“Let us not become weary in doing good, for at the proper time we will reap a harvest if we do not give up. Therefore, as we have opportunity, let us do good to all people, especially to those who belong to the family of believers.”

Galatians 6: 9-10

Stories from the Ground: Suffering Well, Running the Race

Written By: Jonathan Pham

Today is the day where the rubber meets the road—we will be starting our 20 mile journey to a northern Nuban village where a military escort will pick us up and drive us to our final destination. We were told that the trip would take 3 to 4 hours to complete---if only it were 3 to 4 hours! When the initial trip from the refugee camp to our first checkpoint took twice as long to accomplish, we knew that this next trip would be nowhere near a walk in the park…

Got up at 0600, had breakfast, packed up, filled up our water containers, and headed out by 0845—already making our first mistake of the day: we should have left much earlier, perhaps 0730 to cover more distance under the coolness of the morning.

 The initial trek was not so bad. I even had time to observe the local biodiversity. Along the roads, we ran into soldiers and refugees, each with their own stories to tell. Then, things started to get a little hairy---especially for me. 5 to 6 miles in I started to overheat… 

 I used to think that God blessed me with such a rapid metabolism that would burn food as rapidly as I consumed it-- key word being “burn”. The oatmeal with protein powder, coupled with energy bars for breakfast provided me enormous amounts of energy while causing me to dehydrate. I began to rapidly drain my water reserves in an attempt to meet my metabolic demands and cool off. Carrying a 70 lbs backpack didn’t help the situation at all. Sweat from my body immediately evaporated as soon as it was produced. I couldn’t feel any coolness that the sweat had to offer, just heat. 

Mud from the roads would give way, causing my boots to become heavy with clinging mud. Personal panic mode activated around 4-5 hours into the trip, I succeeded in draining all of my water reserves and there wasn’t a borehole in sight. 

Worst case scenario situations started to play through my head---how can I prevent this situation? What can I do to retain water within my body? I allowed my mind to entertain these thoughts for a moment until I was reminded of my Heavenly Father—what purpose am I here for? Why am I experiencing this? My mind drifted towards the Gospel. Could it be possible that what I am experiencing now may be used to identify with the Nubans? Could God use this brief and light (I emphasize light) affliction to allow me to experience a taste of what they had to go through daily? Could this possibly be a small glimpse of what Christ has done for our behalf? These people were performing the burdensome task of carrying heavy goods such as wheat, rice, iron pots, and even beds over the same distances and paths that we, kuwahjahs (white people) were struggling in, and they were doing so while malnourished with such grace and strength. God has truly strengthened these people to live life as necessary.

By the grace of God we managed to reach a borehole which we aptly named “Jacob’s Well” which was situated within one of the mountains there. We asked a soldier how far was our transit destination. He replied 4 km. We refilled our water reserves and then we decided to take a break. 

Despite God allowing us to exhaust all our energy reserves, He gifted us with a spirit of understanding, humility and unity, allowing us to bear each others burdens which involved foot blisters, water shortages, grime, and body odor with minimal complaining if any. I learned much from my brothers during this walk—Jacob revealed himself to be a father figure of the trip, always looking for our member’s concern (especially mine). George was a man who was acknowledged as neither full Nuban nor Kuwahjah, something that we jested about for the remainder of the trip. John revealed to be very into kung-fu and insisting that he was African to every single Nuban he encountered (I’m not sure if they bought into it). David was the humble realist, always reminding us to keep the eternal, Godly perspective at all times. And of course, there’s me, —the “stereotypical” push over who likes to throw a verbal/physical left hook once in a while, just to keep things interesting.

The last trek from the borehole to our pickup destination turned out to be the most difficult. We took about an hour break to regain our energy and set off in the hot afternoon sun. Did I mention that it was hot? I don’t think I could emphasize that quite enough. The sun was at an angle that made shade formation difficult. I started to overheat again, drinking lots of water. 4 kilometers? Really? At this point, the other guys were beginning to overheat as well. Whereas initially in the first half of the journey, we took about 3 half an hour breaks, we ended up taking 3-4 breaks within a few hours of our second half. I think we started to get delirious and our thinking began to become irrational. Despite all this, we never lashed out at each other, and encouraged each other to persevere and carry on.  

It wouldn’t be until around 1730 when our group reached the check point. A 3 to 4 hour hike? Perhaps if you were Nuban. Looking back, God did deliver us, and gave us the strength to accomplish what He desired of us, removing any vestiges of self reliance so that when we arrived, we were completely exhausted (quite the antithesis of the American charging in a huge truck to save/change the world), with the added bonus of protecting us every single step along the way.

Stories from the Ground: Stuck Part 2 - UNSTUCK

Written By: John Jefferson

Continued from yesterday...

It took several hours to dislodge the truck from the muddy, water-filled "crevasse" it slid into on the road from the refugee camp to the border.  That was time we didn't have to waste, so we unloaded the food, and our gear, and started walking with our gear, using the ATV to shuttle the cargo.

We bedded down at the last bore hole on the border before continuing our journey northward.  We were not able to get an accurate reading on how far it would be to get to the foothills of the Nuba Mountains, whether there would be water along the way, or exactly what the road conditions were.  We did know we would have to rely on the ATV and a couple of intrepid bicyclists to carry the food.  We’d also be challenged by muddy, sandy, tire-grooved, winding trails through thick brush and tall grasses combined with high heat and still higher humidity.

After about an hour of walking, we became keenly aware of just how uninformed we were about the length of road before us.  Most Nubans don’t carry watches or time pieces, and they have walked all their lives.  So the correlation between walking, time and distance is not the same for them as it is for us. 

(They are also in incredible shape and probably wouldn’t ask the question the same way…we ask in desperation: “Please, how far is it?  I’m dying here and need to know precisely how far to xyz and how long will it take!?!”)

We were told different time frames up to 4 or 5 hours and calculated about 8, which turned out to be about right unfortunately.  The other unfortunate thing was that water was scarce beyond the border checkpoint where we spent the night, so we essentially ran out of water just shy of the next source.  Our 60lb packs loaded with food, rain gear we ended up not needing, and supplies for the trek and stay, were taking their toll.  Fleet footed soldiers helped us keep pace for a time, then passed us with ease as they walked in their flip-flops with their boots and light gear strung across their shoulders.  

We passed 10s of families going the opposite way carrying what little they had and hoping for food and security in Yida some 30 miles south.  Young childrens walked or those too young to walk were carried.  It was rare to see a person older than say mid-50s for obvious reason. 

(We even passed a young family of brothers and sisters that left their parents in the mountains, something unheard of in that culture under normal circumstances)

The heat of the day no doubt surpassed 100 degrees as we moved through the swampy, steamy back country.  At one point we stopped and rung out our “dry fit” shirts yielding enough “Gatorade” for a nice warm drink!

Soaked with sweat, our boots caked with mud making a nice clay oven effect, blisters, sun burn, dehydration and eventually signs of fatigue were taking their toll by the time the sun started to take a downward trajectory on the horizon.  

The ATV that had shuttled the food back and forth between different stopping points had completed moving the food after 6 ½ hours, and the bicyclists that were carrying about 150 lbs of rice were coming close to completing their arduous journey. (They had offered to help for 150 Sudanese pounds a piece, so we agreed given it was only $30 and would give them much needed funds)  

As we approached the last five miles or so the ATV returned to pick up some of our gear and give a ride to one particularly exhausted team member, which was indeed a blessing for him and alleviated concerns about him succumbing to heat exhaustion.  Eventually, we all made it to the final checkpoint before getting to the mountains, at one point even passing a vehicle that was sent to pick us up and got stuck in the mud!  

The elation of standing at the foot of the mountains and looking at our precious cargo which took so much time and effort to bring was indescribable.  Even more powerful was the feeling of anticipation as I thought about finally getting the opportunity to actually give it to the Nuban people .  As the sun set over the mountains, the painful walk and all the pressure of entering aa war zone without knowing exactly how our plan would be executed faded with the light of day.  We knew the day was ending, and the cool of the evening would soon be replacing it, just as the light of a new day would come….very soon.

Stories from the Ground: Stuck

 Written By: John Jefferson 

The road is fraught with challenges, not the least of which can be seen here; puddles the size of ponds.  We found one upon setting out on our journey.  Here's the story of what we did next.

About 11 miles or so outside of the refugee camp heading north, our pickup truck loaded with the food and our gear succumbed to the elements and got stuck.  We walked on, eventually covering about 12 miles before bedding down for the night.  

 

The ATV shuttled the food while we trudged through what amounts to a huge swampy area along the border of the two countries.  We saw many refugees fleeing in the opposite direction, and wondered if we were going the wrong way! The next day was the real test…

Stories from the Ground: From Dreams to Realities

Written By: John Jefferson

We had hoped to be bringing 5 tons of food on the plane, but there were several limiting factors that prevented it from happening on this initial trip.  First, the CSB (Corn Soy Blend) we ordered did not arrive in Juba in time.  Second, the payload of the plane would not allow for more than 1,000 lbs of cargo.  And third, we weren’t exactly sure how we were going to get it north of the refugee camp, even once we were in country. (Complexities of operating in a war zone!)   

We did however spend a day in Juba procuring enough sorghum and rice to fit the bill for what we wanted to accomplish and get it transported by the ubiquitous Chinese-made motorcycle “pickups” that could easily handle the load.  With that, we were ready to begin the journey to get food to the desperate people of the Nuba Mountains, against the best advice of other concerned parties, the desires of ruthless men that want to starve them, and even our own better judgment.  Though the rest of the road was uncertain, we set our faces like flint northward.